


Tangibility

by irene_addling



Category: Castle
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-14
Updated: 2012-08-14
Packaged: 2017-11-12 03:36:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/486216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irene_addling/pseuds/irene_addling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Dynamic opening line, didn't you always tell me that was important?" Kate writes a letter she'll never send from her hospital bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tangibility

Castle,

I think I might love you. Back.

What a way to start. Dynamic opening line, didn't you always tell me that was important? If a murder happens in the first paragraph, people get intrigued. They want to follow. They want to listen.

According to the pysch eval guy, I'm supposed to be writing this about what I want. No ambiguity, he says, because I'm never going to send it. Right now, I want to be able to eat something other than Jello and ice cream, and I also want the hospital to run something other than old Oprahs at this time of day. But I don't think those types of wants will make you follow the opening hook.

I'm not sure what I'm doing here. Scratch that. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be doing here. I've seen a few people turn to faith after something like this, and I've seen more than a few turn to beer, but I've never seen someone turn to letter-writing. It's not helping that much.

Why did you push me down? If you had ended up in the hospital with me because Rook's given you a white knight complex, I'd have killed you as soon as I got my gun back. I read my fair bit of Shakespeare in high school, enough to know that love makes you stupid. (Right here, you'd drop a Shakespeare quote, but all I can remember from the classroom is the whole "what soft, light through yonder widow" bit.) But if we're going to sort this out, both of us need to be alive. Maybe not kicking. But alive. Nikki and Rook can metaphorically kick for both of us.

I'm not asking for forgiveness, and if you ask I won't give you any. I don't regret kicking you out of my apartment. Maybe I do regret the aftermath, but that doesn't seem so important now. I'm asking for an explanation. When did I become this to you? I never asked for it.

Huh. You never told me you were on Oprah. You're talking about Derrick Storm, and you've got the stubble, so this is old. Plus, you've got a wedding ring. So this is really old. I preordered the Storm graphic novel, you know. Just for future reference.

I'm not saying anything about me. This is supposed to be my platform for venting. But I can't deal with you right now. Don't think it's personal. I can't deal with anyone right now. Not you, not Josh wanting more than I do, not Lanie or even my dad. I need some time. I'm going to regret pushing you out one day. It's not today, though, and it won't be for a while. You want honesty? There.

I'm suddenly feeling childish, now. And sick. The nurse hasn't changed my IV in ages.

Josh and I broke up about five minutes ago. He wanted to marry me, and I shut the ring box for him and tried not to sound like a bitch. I think I failed. Just thought you should know.

I already miss you, but at the same time I'm not ready to miss you. I don't know when I stopped being the logical one.

So here's the deal, and I'll lay it out for you because you'll never read this. I think I might love you. Back. But as long as that's just in my head, everything's under control. And I can't afford to loose that control until my mom's case is solved. Again, nothing personal. So when I see you, I'm going to pretend.

Then again, I stopped being the inspiration for Nikki a long time ago. Somehow, I know she's going to take a bullet soon. She is me.

Just more pretending, I guess.

Beckett


End file.
